


Cassia and Cardamom

by deathtouchwlw (deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, F/F, Masturbation, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, flirting?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouchwlw
Summary: Femfeb 2019 | FanficAnon requested Ana/BrigitteVampire AU, Ana looks hungry...





	Cassia and Cardamom

**Author's Note:**

> vague true blood lore but you don't have to know anything about true blood at all to enjoy this fic!  
> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

_She seems pale,_ Brigitte thought, which was so ridiculous she promptly laughed out loud at the joke she hadn’t intended to make.

The vampire had to have heard her coming from far off; super sensitive hearing and all that. Ana could have heard mice in the walls two floors down, it was no doubt that she had heard Brigitte lumbering through the hallway. It was the sound of laughter that made her turn up her head, though.

The myth about vampires being pale really was only a myth. Brigitte had seen enough vampires by now to know that they came in every color. A well-fed vamp had an ethereal glow about them that a crueler person might call ghoulish. Brigitte didn’t find it ghoulish at all, she found it striking. What she saw before her _now_ was ghoulish.

The night Ana had shown up at the Lindholm estate in Gothenburg she was the tan of a setting sun on sand, glowing and radiant and dangerous. Now she was pale. Pale in an awful way. Pale in a way that neither human nor vampire should be. Pale in a way not even the myths could describe. Pale in a way that made Brigitte stop laughing rather quickly.

“Are you ill, Ms. Amari?” She asked, because it seemed like the right thing to say.

The vampire stared at her. Her eyes were only brown, but they were brown in the way forests were old and the heavens were endless. Brigitte thought she might end up being the ill one in a moment if Ana kept on staring.

She remembered what her fathered said, about glamors, and lowered her gaze politely. Vampire could control people if they stared into their eyes for long enough. Brigitte wouldn’t have believed it, but she’d seen it happen. She knew just what kinds of things Ana could do to her.

“I’m afraid I am a little unwell,” The vampire replied. She was halfway down the hall, and her accented voice curled across the golden wall paper and plush red carpets. Such was the presence of Ana Amari.

An unwell vampire. Brigitte found that odd. She couldn’t help but to smile when she knew she shouldn’t.

“That must be strange for you.”

The vampire hummed thoughtfully. “It’s only blood I need,” she said, and she managed to sound significantly less irritated than she was. Almost casual. As if Torbjorn wasn’t completely cutting off the vampires’ life force and food supply during their stay here.

Brigitte had heard the speech; stood at her father’s side as he delivered it. Any staff caught feeding the vampires would be subject to termination. Glamours were not an excuse. All Torbjorn need do was offer a warning glance to his children for them to know worse would come to them if they were caught doing the same.

Torbjorn Lindholm: billion-dollar weapons designer and utterly prejudice against vampires. Whatever stunt he was pulling inviting one of the oldest vampire dynasties into his home for a week to work out an arms contract, it was a bad one. This whole week had been a mess from start to finish with one unfortunate incident after another. Brigitte had certainly learned a lot more about vampire politics, and the hierarchies therein, but they clashed so heavily with Torbjorn’s policies that watching her father and Ana trying to hash out their differences was like watching a car crash. Multiple car crashes, really. A fifty-car pile-up.

Despite her father’s predisposition against vampires, Brigitte’s stomach twisted in sympathy. The Amaris had been drinking nothing but synthetic blood since they’d gotten here. Most vampires Brigitte had ever met were stoic and composed… until they took a sip of the synthetic stuff. Their faces would immediately twist up with disgust like they’d eaten something spoiled.

Just because they could survive on it doesn’t mean they should have to. Though, that may have been Reinhart’s words resonating in her head and not her own. Brigitte hadn’t thought much about vampires at all until her beloved god-father had courted one. Or, whatever Vampires called their bizarre paramours with humans. Torbjorn had been furious. Oh, who was Brigitte kidding. Torbjorn was still furious.

“I’m sorry my father didn’t let you bring…” _your human along_  she almost said. _Your human_. As if Vampires could simply own humans. That wasn’t right. Brigitte almost said _food source_  next, and that was just as awful. No one person should be relegated to ‘food source’ and nothing else.

“Something to eat?” Mrs. Amari playfully finished the sentence for her.

Brigitte took a few steps closer to her so that they weren’t so far away.

“Is that how you see people?” She asked; almost a challenge. It wasn’t wise to provoke a vampire, especially a hungry one, but the answer would certainly be forthcoming.

“Of course not.” The vampire shook her head. That seemed to make her dizzy, and she planted a hand on the wall. “Humans are beautiful, fragile things. Delicate.”

Brigitte smiled. “Even my father?”

The vampire’s eyes flashed. “Especially your father.” The words sounded dangerous.

For a moment there Brigitte had forgotten who she was speaking to. This vampire was not her friend. Even weakened she was still stronger and faster and deadlier. …and Torbjorn insisted on starving them, the old fool. Perhaps there was some plan here that Brigitte didn’t know, some merit to this she couldn’t see.

For some reason she turned up her sleeve and stuck out a wrist. “Eat something,” she said. It was better to keep the vampire happy? Wasn’t it?

“You seem to misunderstand what Torbjorn Lindholm would do to me if he found out I’d fed from his youngest daughter,” Mrs. Amari murmured but her eyes fell to Brigitte’s wrist, full of intent.

Brigitte found that amusing, and she was smiling again when she knew she shouldn’t be. “You seem to think he wouldn’t do the same to me. Go on, eat. He won’t find out.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d kept something from her father…

The vampire pushed off the wall and took careful steps closer. With her hands she reached out for Brigitte’s arm. Her fingers were thick and strong.

“You’re sure?” She said softly. Her deep voice rumbled in her chest, purring like a cat.

Ana’s head was gently bowed, and Brigitte could see the dark gray hair on her head. She could smell cassia and honey and cardamom. A ridiculous notion made her think she should bury her face in Ana’s soft hair and breathe in the scent of her. She was thousands of years old, this woman. The scent of a thousand places, a thousand lives lived, a thousand experiences were in her and on her and…

“Not there!” Brigitte said suddenly, realizing the vampire’s lips were at her wrist.

Mrs. Amari stopped at once and glanced up.

“Further, up here,” She straightened her arm a little, offering the crook of her elbow.

The vampire hesitated. “I could drink from there,” She said thoughtfully. “But there’s more to bite through to get to your veins. It would be more painful for you and it would leave a larger mark.”

Brigitte considered. It would be easier to hide even if the mark was bigger.

“There is another place,” The vampire suggested. “The femoral vein, in your thigh. Very easy to hide.”

Brigitte startled, nearly snatching her arm back. “Bite. At the elbow. Quickly before I change my mind.”

The vampire smiled softly and bent her head a second time. Brigitte heard the sickening sound of her fangs extending and barely had a moment to flinch before they were sinking deep into her skin. It hurt more than she expected, a sudden searing burn that lanced up her arm and burst from her shoulder into her chest. Her mouth opened, as if to tell Mrs. Amari to stop, but it was too late. Brigitte stared down in horror as if she could see the flesh of her arm being torn into, but all she could see was that soft grey hair.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse the pain eased a little. She had to suffer through the odd needling, pinching feeling the blood being drawn from her veins but that was a little less painful to endure.

“Easy,” she groaned softly.

She had seen vampires biting people before and it always looked so romantic. This was awful.

Mrs. Amari suckled loudly for a moment, but before long she pulled away. She stood up straight, and when Brigitte saw her mouth it was smeared with red hot blood. It was frightening. Ana’s eyes reflected like a cat in the dark. She was still pale, but life was back in her, more than there had been a moment ago. Brigitte glanced down at her own arm, and it was a literal bloody mess.

“That’s enough,” The vampire told her, bending Brigitte’s elbow to ease the blood flow and to get the mess out of her face lest she be tempted to dip her head and suck again.

“You barely drank,” Brigitte muttered. The bitemark ached in pain, but she did her best to ignore it.

“When I see your father tomorrow evening looking refreshed and healthy what will he imagine I’ve been drinking?” The vampire asked her. She leaned in to get a good look at Brigitte’s face.

Brigitte realized what Mrs. Amari was saying, and she nodded. “Alright,” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her head was ringing, and her arm was throbbing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Now you,” Mrs. Amari said. She raised her own wrist to her face and sank her fangs in like it was a ripe peach.

“Are you mad?” Brigitte asked, stumbling back.

The vampire blinked at her cluelessness and then smirked. “It will heal you, if you drink,” She said. She offered her wrist. The blood was black. Brigitte remembered all those thousands of years, and the scent of cassia and cardamom. She felt weak.

She knew that Reinhardt drank from vampires. He was too polite to describe the experience in illicit ways but, she knew it could be quite sensual. The way Reinhardt told it, it was like the world was suddenly clearer and brighter and better. Brigitte could tell whenever Reinhardt had been drinking vampire blood. He seemed stronger, sturdier, and like his old wounds didn’t hurt him so much anymore.

She could certainly admit to being curious, but the real allure was being healed. She could wrap her arm, or wear long sleeves, but what better way not to get caught than to not have a scar at all. Brigitte swallowed her uncertainty and leaned in. Who was she to balk at a new experience? If nothing else that’s what she could call this when she remembered it the next day. Just a new experience.

The vampire’s wrist was already healing, and the blood that leaked out was thick and cool. Brigitte could not say that it tasted like anything at all, but the flavor hit her tongue and exploded in her mouth.

“Suck,” Ana whispered to her, and she did.

The blood poured down her throat, cool and crisp and delicious. Brigitte closed her eyes and sucked harder. It was good. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She didn’t want to stop. She felt a current flowing through her, electric and intense. It pooled in her stomach and made her belly buzz like a hundred butterflies, or stinging bees, or electric eels swimming in circles.

The vampire pulled her arm back, eyebrow raised in amusement. “And I thought I was hungry,’ she teased.

Brigitte could barely hear her. Ana’s words were smoke, gold and black. They painted the air.

Her elbow tingled and when she unbent her arm, she saw in technicolor the wonders of her own body. Cells began to regenerate one by one by one. She watched, enraptured. The dark black holes where vampire fangs had been began to fill and miraculously regrow . It hurt, but it didn’t. Brigitte was too captivated to tear her eyes away.

She felt a hand on the small of her back, and still she could not look up. “Go to bed,” The vampire whispered to her, kind and sweet. Brigitte knew that she ought to. Wasn’t that where she’d been heading before all this? When she tried to walk, she found that the carpet was cloud beneath her feet instead of floor. She laughed openly.

“Is this the world to you?” She asked, blood drunk and utterly curious.

She had so many questions. So many things she had always wanted to ask but never could. She was the daughter of Torbjorn Lindholm, a fact she could literally feel now. Her DNA was ultraviolet, and the colored helix separated into what belonged to her father and what belonged to her mother and Brigitte could feel all the individual pieces making her whole. Every inch of her felt alight with sudden understanding.

Ana laughed at her in response and the music of it was beautiful. Brigitte wanted to hear that laugh again. Then she saw her bedroom door and it was like seeing it for the first time. The oak was carved with such craftsmanship. The brass handle was worn but polished to perfection. She touched it and the cool metal thrummed under her hand.

“Good night, Brigitte,” Mrs. Amari said to her.

“Good night,” Brigitte said back.

When she opened her bedroom door it smelled like home to her in a way the hallway hadn’t. It was comforting. She might have heard Mrs. Amari wish her sweet dreams as well as a good night, or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe it was the thought of her bed that made her think of how happy she would be to curl up on the mattress and have sweet, sweet dreams.

It wasn’t until the door was shut behind her that she realized she’d forgotten to turn on the light and she could see clearly in the darkness.

When she fell into bed, Brigitte felt every thread of the sheets, and the cushion of her mattress, and the feathers in her comforter. Falling into bed was like falling into a beautiful bliss she had never known. She licked her lips and tasted blood, it buzzed on her tongue and filled her mouth with sweetness.

Brigitte found that she was shamelessly, inexplicably turned on. She didn’t hesitate to reach down and touch herself, little that she needed to. Her whole body was sensitive and primed. Her fingers were impossibly warm, rough in the right places and smooth in others. All of it was familiar and different at the same time and she was coming before she even managed to touch himself.

Her back arched and her body trembled and the buzz in her belly traveled down to her most sensitive parts. She reached her orgasm just as her fingers slid between the wet lips of her vulva, a single touch was all it took. Brigitte laughed her way through it, unable to explain to herself what had just happened. When it was all over, she did it again, ready to go.

_God bless vampire blood_. She thought as she rubbed another one out. _Torbjorn was wrong; God bless vampires._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> femfeb '19 masterpost ➝ [here](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/post/182484342728)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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